My sister Jean and I
(along with her husband Jim and son Jack) visit my parents. I haven’t seen them since Thanksgiving. My mom looks great. My dad, not so much. He’s just gotten home after a month in rehab
from a fall he took at the beginning of the year. He is very tired and can barely stay awake
through our two-hour visit. My 83-year
old mother greets us with her usual smile and youthful gait. She walks about three miles, five times a
week. She could be the poster child for
why exercising is important.
My mom has prepared a big
breakfast: a french-toast soufflé, bagels (with cream cheese and lox), coffee
cake and fruit. We try and keep my dad
involved in our conversation, but it is difficult. He keeps drifting off. Apparently he hasn’t slept well the past two
nights. He seems uncomfortable, physically.
He is a man who was never sick.
And though he was injured a couple of times, he never complained. My father was a strong man, so to see him
weakened by age is sad.
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